Privacy Issues
by Kimberly Simpson
Summary: Something I cooked up while feeling a little bit angsty. A tiny bit Charah-ish, based somewhere in season 1 before Chuck learns Bryce is still alive.


His phone had been off for three hours. It made sense that upon turning it back on he would be flooded with messages demanding to know where he was and what was going on. Someone in his position simply didn't have the luxury of privacy. To him, "alone time" didn't exist. It always drove him a little crazy, but rarely had it ever bothered him more than it did today.

So he had taken off his watch, leaving it in the apartment much earlier in the day. He'd gone to work like everything was normal. His handlers saw him there and therefore had no reason to track him using the watch. It wasn't until after his shift at work—his _real_ job, not this hectic second identity he'd found himself thrown into—that anybody even noticed that they didn't know where to find him.

At five o'clock, he'd left the store and just walked. Right past his car, right through the parking lot, to the other side of the mall complex he worked in. For the first time in years, he went to the bus station, and for the first time in his life he simply boarded the first shuttle that appeared without regard to where it was going. He didn't really care, all he wanted to do was get away from where he was. He stayed on the bus for the better part of an hour, and when he got off, he was satisfied to find that he was nowhere near home. He was close to the beach, so that's where he went.

This particular beach was one he'd never been to, and he was glad for that. A change in scenery was not only welcome, but needed. It wasn't the prettiest beach, but in all honesty, he couldn't find anything unappealing about watching the sun set over the ocean. Especially now, when he was alone. He so desperately needed to be alone.

They were always watching his every move. Listening to his every conversation. There were bugs planted all over his apartment, invading not only his own privacy, but his sister's as well. Just the thought of poor Ellie never even knowing that there were hidden cameras in every room of their apartment, including her bedroom…it made him wish he was a real spy so he could break the neck of whoever planted the bugs.

The worst part was that he knew who had planted them. It couldn't have been anyone but Sarah. She was in and out of his place constantly, being his fake girlfriend and all. She had unquestioned access to every room in the house except Ellie's, and it would only take a moment of sneaking off to successfully plant a bug in there. He was trying to trust her, telling himself that she was doing it for his own good, but sometimes it was hard to convince himself of that. Sometimes all he saw when he looked at her was a cold, emotionless CIA agent who didn't truly care for him and only pretended to to ensure his cooperation with the government.

He hated feeling like this. That was more the reason he ran away than anything else. He didn't want her—or anyone, for that matter—to see him like this. So bitter, so angry at the world. So untrusting of the two people who knew more than anyone what he had to go through every day. But although they were there, they didn't truly see, or understand, what it was that tore him apart. All the lying, all the deception…the way that Ellie would look at him after he'd botched up one of his lies and had to hastily come up with something to tell her that didn't contradict whatever he'd told her before. Sometimes she looked at him like she didn't trust him anymore. He knew it had to be more his imagination than reality, but sometimes he could swear that she could see right through him. Sometimes he really thought that she would shock him and just come right out and ask him, _"Why didn't you tell me?"_

Her number was one of the many that came up on his "missed calls" list. She'd called him twice, and left him a message once, at around seven o'clock, asking whether or not he would be home for dinner. "Your phone went straight to voice mail, so I'm guessing you forgot to charge it last night or something," she said in her message, sounding not in the least suspicious or concerned. "Call me back when you get this, or I'll just see you at home." He was opting for the latter.

The next few messages were from Sarah. Completely contradictory to Ellie's, Sarah's voice was filled with an odd hybrid of anger, worry, and fear. It almost made him feel guilty that he'd gone off grid for so long without giving her or Casey any type of heads up. _Almost._ "Chuck, where are you? It's eight o'clock. I stopped at your house and your sister said you haven't been home. Chuck, this isn't like you. Call me as soon as you get this." The next one came half an hour later. "We saw your car still at the store. Chuck, this isn't funny. It is extremely dangerous for you to go off on your own like this. Call me as _soon_ as you get this." Finally, half an hour after that one, she left a third. "Chuck, I don't know what is going on with you. You're not at work, not home, not with Morgan, and you haven't even called me to check in. You know you can't do things like this. I…hope you're okay. Call me _as soon as_ you get this." He noted that she didn't mention tracking the watch he'd left in his bedroom and had a feeling that he'd be paying for that one when he got home.

He only had one from Casey. "Idiot, we found your watch." Ah, there it was. "Get your ass over here as soon as you get this." And that was all. He found it slightly off-putting that there was no yelling. In fact, his tone sounded no different from normal, as though he wasn't even concerned with Chuck's disappearance.

_He probably isn't. He's probably watching me via satellite right now._ Chuck turned his eyes up toward the stars. _Are you watching me, Casey?_

He knew he should call. It was late—already after ten, over four hours since he'd arrived here. And it really wasn't safe for him to be completely untrackable. It seemed like every time he was, he ended up in trouble somehow. But that was exactly why he needed this so much. He didn't ask for this life. He didn't _want_ it. And he was tired of it. If Casey and Sarah weren't in his life, if he'd never been given spy protectors and been forced to go on missions with them, the bad guys wouldn't even know of him. He wouldn't have to worry about his family's safety, or worry that the government was just using him and didn't actually care about his well-being at all. He wouldn't have to worry that that's what Sarah was doing. Using him.

He wouldn't have a Sarah to worry about him.

His phone lit up again, the loud vibration against the rock he'd set it on catching his attention and drawing his gaze. It was Sarah, her smiling face gracing the screen as a groan escaped his mouth. He very much did not want to talk to her. Despite himself, however, he reached for the phone, clicking the "answer" button with his thumb and pulling the device to his ear. "Hey, Sarah," he said sheepishly, trying to keep his tone as light and carefree as it usually was.

"Chuck!" He couldn't tell from her initial response whether she was happy to hear his voice or livid that it had taken him so long to answer her calls. "Where are you?"

"At the beach." It was pointless to lie; she was probably tracing the call even as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I needed a little bit of time to clear my head."

"Time to clear your head," she repeated in a dull monotone. Now he could tell she was much closer to livid with him than happy. "Chuck, what exactly were you thinking? Leaving your watch, your car, _everything_ we had to track you? Just because you needed 'time to clear your head?'"

"I'm sorry," he said again, though her tone was making it difficult to truly mean it. "It's just that you and Casey, you're always around…even when you're not there. I had to get away from it, just for a little bit. But I'm fine."

"Chuck, you can't just do that! You can't just up and leave whenever you want to! We had no idea what happened to you! The last anybody saw you was when you left the Buy More! And your car was still there, how was I supposed to know you didn't get kidnapped in the parking lot!? God, Chuck, if you need time alone, that's fine, but you need to tell us!"

"Tell you?" he asked incredulously. "How am I supposed to do that? 'Hey Sarah, would you mind _not_ spying on me for a few hours?' I may not be the world's top secret agent, but I've been around it enough to know that that's not how it works."

She was silent for a few seconds. He was pretty positive that she had finished tracking the call and would be on her way in a moment. "Chuck, you are a very valuable asset and we cannot allow you to just wander off whenever you want. You need to let Casey or me know what you are doing at all times. I'm coming to pick you up. I'll be there in half an hour."

That was probably an overestimation. With the way Sarah drove, especially in her current state of rage, he imagined that she would probably be here in under twenty minutes. Chuck spent two seconds trying to come up with a response, but each of the dozens of things that came to mind was filled with sarcasm and malice toward her, toward Casey, and toward the government in general. So he chose to simply hang up the phone instead.

He didn't want her here. He wasn't ready to go back. He didn't want to deal with her yelling, or Casey's insults, or Ellie's concern when he came home unable to hide the look of dismay from his sad attempt at a smile. She could almost always tell when he was upset, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. The only times he had ever gotten away with it were all when he would come home with Sarah. She would probably be asleep by the time he got home, though, anyway. It wasn't like it was something he had to worry about. Not tonight, at least.

But tomorrow night, or one night in the very near future, he knew he would find himself lying to her again. He hated it. Ellie used to be the most important person to him, and the person that knew more than anybody about him. Now, nobody in his life knew anything about him. Nobody in his "real" life, anyway—the life he'd had a few months ago, before he got that e-mail. If Bryce wasn't dead, Chuck was sure that he would never be able to forgive him for doing this to him. He sometimes wondered whether or not his old roommate had known that he'd be ruining Chuck's life by sending him all these secrets. Now he had nothing but secrets.

He missed how everything used to be so straightforward. He missed having the time to spend playing video games with Morgan. He missed Morgan, period. Now that he was a spy, however terrible an excuse for one, Chuck had zero time left over for a real social life. Ellie and Morgan thought that his time was filled with dates and outings with his spectacular new girlfriend. They thought that he was so happy all of the time, getting to know such a great woman who seemed to genuinely like him for the nerd he is. If only they knew that all the "dates" he was always going on were actually missions that were putting his life in jeopardy every day, and that Sarah was only pretending to adore him. Honestly, he was impressed at the way she could get her eyes to shine with what looked like genuine happiness every time they were together. He wasn't as good at faking his emotions as she was—not that he really wanted to be.

That, too, was a large part of what was bothering him so much. He was afraid, afraid of being changed by this double life. He didn't want to wake up one day and realize that he was used to all the lying and deception. He didn't want to stop feeling so sad every time he had to lie to Ellie or cancel plans with Morgan. He didn't want this life. He wanted his old life back, when everything was real and he could fall asleep in his bed without feeling like he was being watched…when he actually _wasn't_ being watched.

He didn't hear her approach. He was seated in the sand, knees drawn up to his chest, simply staring out over the ocean, watching the waves crash onto the shore again and again. They didn't seem to tire of it, and he didn't grow tired of watching them. It wasn't until she softly spoke that he realized so much time had passed.

"Chuck."

He turned his head, meeting her stare with a cold, emotionless one of his own. Hers wasn't as hollow as he'd been expecting; she looked calm, maybe even relieved to see him unharmed. She looked sad. His glare softened, and he turned back toward the ocean, training his eyes once again on the waves. "I expected you a little sooner."

She moved up to stand beside him, stopping a few feet away to settle herself into the sand, as well. "I had a bit of time to calm down," she stated simply. He gave only a small nod in response. "Look, Chuck…" She stopped, clearly attempting to collect her thoughts before carefully treading into this conversation that already had so much potential to explode into an argument. "I'm not sure that you understand how valuable you are."

He scoffed—quietly, but loud enough that she heard. "I must be, considering the extreme measures the government takes to make my life a living hell."

"We're not trying to make your life a living hell. We're only trying to protect you."

"By bugging my entire house?" he spat, turning to face her again, frustration evident in his expression. "By spying on me? By setting up surveillance in every single place I go so that I can never, _ever_ have a minute to myself? There are cameras in my bathroom, for God's sakes. There is nowhere—_nowhere_, Sarah—that I can go to get away from you people."

"Chuck, we're not spying on you because we don't trust you," she returned, looking more defensive than angry. "We're watching you because it's important that you stay safe. We can't risk leaving a blind spot that may result in getting you killed or kidnapped." Her eyes narrowed, but her face remained concerned rather than argumentative. "Like what you did today. The only reason we knew you weren't kidnapped was your watch. You left it at home, so we knew your disappearance was premeditated. But it's dangerous to do that, Chuck. You never know what could happen. If Casey and I don't know where you are…"

She was right. He knew she was right. As long as he was involved in this, as long as the Intersect was in his head, his life was at risk every day. If he didn't have them there to watch over him, he would have been killed—or possibly even worse, tortured—ages ago. "But I didn't want this, Sarah. That's the whole point. I can't deal with it, I need some space. I need privacy. With you guys watching me all the time, hearing everything I say, seeing everything I do…I feel like I don't have anywhere to unwind anymore. Nowhere I can really, honestly just relax. And I don't know if you've noticed, but it's really starting to get to me."

"Yeah, I guess judging by the past six hours, I think it's safe to say I noticed," she confirmed, attempting a half-hearted smile. He didn't return it, but he hoped she knew he appreciated it. "Look, I understand where you're coming from. If it were me…" She trailed off, taking a moment to consider a life of zero privacy, frowning at all of the scenarios she imagined. Sarah valued her privacy, Chuck knew, based on the fact that he knew literally nothing 'real' about her. She was always so secretive, and a life with cameras and bugs everywhere would destroy that for her. "I don't even know what I would do," she finally admitted, frowning and turning toward the shore.

He wasn't feeling very reassured. Truthfully, he didn't really know what he was expecting her to say. There simply wasn't a solution that was going to make everybody happy. Unfortunately, the government was always going to win that battle. "There's just…nowhere, Sarah. Nowhere I can go."

"Chuck, whenever you need your space, just let Casey or me know, and—"

"And what? You'll let me go, shut off your cameras, no questions asked?" He shot her a glare. "That's not how it works and you know it."

She did know it. She was more than willing to give him whatever privacy he requested, but Casey wouldn't be so compliant. "There is one place you can go. No cameras, no bugs."

He studied her carefully for a moment before slowly turning his head back toward the water, maintaining eye contact all the while. "Where?"

"My apartment. It's private. No cameras. Not even for briefings. Chuck, if you ever need some space, just come to my place. I'll leave you there alone if you want me to, for as long as you need."

He only stared, not entirely sure how to react. "Seriously?" he asked, unable to keep the slight disbelief from creeping into his voice. "You would do that for me?"

"Of course I would. I know you didn't ask for any of this."

That didn't stop her or Casey from spying on every other aspect of his life. Why should this be any different?

"Chuck, I don't want you to resent Casey or me. I don't want you not to trust us. If you need somewhere to go, some time to think, whatever. You're more than welcome to use my place as much as you need to."

He still wasn't entirely sure whether or not he could believe her. She seemed to genuinely mean everything she was saying, but this wouldn't be the first time she was convincing him of something that wasn't true. "I…actually, Sarah, I would really appreciate that."

She smiled. He blamed that smile for the way he always fell for every lie she told him. "I'm glad."

Despite himself, he smiled back, honestly feeling relieved even without knowing that he could trust her. He never really knew whether or not he could trust her, but usually he gave her the benefit of the doubt. And usually, that worked out pretty well. "I'll take you up on that soon."

"You can take me up on it now, if you want," she offered. He saw a strange look in her eyes that he couldn't quite identify. "If you need more time."

Maybe he did. He still wasn't feeling very emotionally sound. But it was already late, and if he went back to her place he most likely wouldn't be home until after midnight. He didn't want to keep her up just because he was having a bad day. "I don't know."

"Chuck, it's fine," she said as if she could read his thoughts. "You're not imposing. I'll feel better knowing you're safe."

That much, he knew was true. For a trained killer, she was often times strangely sensitive toward his feelings. "Okay then," he smiled. "Thank you, Sarah."

"You're welcome," she said simply, moving to stand up in the sand. "Are you ready?"

He wasn't. "Yeah," he said anyway, taking the hand she offered to help him up. He stood beside her, smiling down at her in appreciation while she looked up at him with a small smile of her own. A few seconds went by before he realized he was still holding her hand.

She seemed to have the same realization at the same time. "Sorry," they said in unison, both pulling away quickly and awkwardly from each other.

"Sorry," he said again, certain of the fact that he was blushing. In an attempt to change the subject, he looked behind him, gesturing toward the car. "Shall we?"

"Of course," she nodded, beginning to walk to where she was parked. He followed, wondering in the back of his mind if going back to her place was such a good idea. It would make it easier, though, when Ellie would surely be questioning him on where he'd been all night. He hadn't come up with any sort of cover story, and although Sarah had been to the apartment looking for him, it wouldn't be hard to make something up that would fit it all together.

Or maybe he was just telling himself that. He wasn't completely sure what he really wanted, but he couldn't pretend that spending time alone with her was an unappealing idea. If she even stayed with him. He didn't know if she planned to or not, nor what to say to her if she left it up to him. He didn't know if he wanted her there.

But after a moment of thought as they were reaching the car, he knew that he did want her there. If she truly, genuinely cared about him and wasn't doing all this just to gain his trust, he absolutely wanted her there. It was nice having her to talk to because she seemed to really understand what he was going through.

_Seemed to. _He looked at her from the passenger's seat as she started up the car, glancing over at him and offering a smile. She did seem to care for him.

He couldn't really know for sure.


End file.
